Esther 4:14 For if you remain completely silent at this time, relief and deliverance will arise for the Jews from another place, but you and your father’s house will perish. Yet who knows whether you have come to the kingdom for such a time as this?”
The Festival of Purim, which we celebrate on the 14th of Adar—the last month in the Biblical calendar—begins this Thursday evening and continues through Friday evening this year. Although Purim isn’t one of the moedim, or appointed feasts, named in the Torah, it arose in the 4th century BC and has been cherished ever since.
While the dramatic events leading to Purim are vividly detailed in the Book of Esther, the festival of Purim does not appear in the New Testament.
The Book of Esther is set in the ancient city of Susa (Shushan), now part of modern-day western Iran. The story unfolds sometime after the 70-year exile in Babylon, but likely before Ezra the priest and Nehemiah the governor returned to Israel.
In a remarkable series of divinely guided events, a young Jewish woman named Hadassah, better known as Esther, ascends to become queen of Persia. Despite her high status, Esther conceals her Jewish identity on the advice of Mordecai: “Esther had not made known her people or her kindred, for Mordecai had charged her not to make it known” (Esther 2:10, 20).
As the plot thickens, Haman, the king’s advisor, engineers a plan to annihilate all Jews. By casting lots (Esther 3:7; Esther 9:26), known in Hebrew as purim, the 13th of Adar is set for this horrific event (Esther 3:13). However, the narrative takes a turn when Esther, spurred by Mordecai, discloses her heritage to the king, leading to Haman’s death and the Jews’ miraculous deliverance.
While the Book of Esther does not explicitly mention God, His presence is intricately woven throughout the narrative, visible to all who immerse themselves in its pages.
One of the most profound lessons from Purim is that God’s rescue plan for the Jewish people would happen with or without Esther’s help. Mordecai even tells Esther that if she kept quiet, “relief and deliverance for the Jews would arise from another place.” This shows that God’s plans don’t rely on just one person, even though Esther was in the right place at the right time, “for such a time as this.” (Esther 4:14)
Likewise, we are alive now “for such a time as this.” God’s prophetic plan to redeem the world, as well as the Jewish people, will happen with or without us, however, God has placed us here for “such a time as this” to see God’s prophetic plan unfold fully, that we may see the “fulness of the Gentiles” (Romans 11:25) and then “all of Israel be saved” (Romans 11:26) for this Gospel must be preached to the ends of the earth, and then the end will come! (Matthew 24:14)
So, take hold of this moment, this special time in your life, and really get that God put you here “for such a time as this.” You’re meant to do incredible things and participate in His ultimate plan—bringing hope and redemption through His Son to the whole world. And guess what? You might just be the spark that ignites a revival right where you are!
Copyright 1999-2026 Worthy Devotions. This devotional was originally published on Worthy Devotions and was reproduced with permission.
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I’ll be doing a series on the “Arm of God,” beginning with this first message — The Arm that Redeems. The Hebrew Z’roah (זְרוֹעַ) means “arm” or “strength,” and in ancient Hebrew culture, the arm symbolizes active power in motion — strength applied for a purpose. In the Exodus account, God tells Moses He will redeem Israel “with an outstretched arm” (bizroa netuyah). This was not poetic metaphor; it was God’s declaration of decisive intervention. The Z’roah is the covenant-keeping arm that moves history, enforces promises, and breaks oppression. Every Pesach (Passover), during the seder — the festive meal of remembrance — the roasted lamb shank bone, the Z’roah, rests on the plate as a silent yet powerful witness to God’s mighty deliverance.
These closing verses of Psalm 118 begin with an unshakable proclamation: “The LORD is God.” In Hebrew, it’s emphatic — YHVH, He is El — the declaration that all authority, holiness, and sovereignty belong to Him alone. Yet this is not just a statement of who He is — it’s a testimony of what He has done: “He has made His light to shine upon us.” This light is more than the glow of the sun — it is the revelation of His presence, the warmth of His favor, and the piercing truth that chases away every shadow. His light doesn’t simply illuminate — it transforms.
Psalm 118:24 is not merely about enjoying a new day — it is a prophetic declaration of a divinely appointed moment. “This is the day the LORD has made” speaks of a kairos moment in history when heaven and earth converge. It points to the day when Messiah would be revealed, salvation would walk into Jerusalem, and God’s covenant plan would take a dramatic step forward. This is not the casual celebration of a sunrise — it is the joyful response to God’s redemptive unfolding.
These verses capture one of the most profound Messianic truths in all of Scripture. What man cast aside, God exalted. What the builders saw as flawed and unfit, God chose as the foundation of His eternal plan. Yeshua (Jesus), the rejected One, is the very cornerstone upon which salvation, identity, and destiny are built. This is more than a theological concept — it’s a divine reversal that reveals the heart of redemption. Rejection by man does not disqualify–it often qualifies you for God’s greatest purposes.
These verses are far more than ancient lyrics — they are a spiritual invitation. The psalmist doesn’t just admire the gate — he pleads for it to open. “Open to me the gates of righteousness…” This is the cry of a heart that longs for access to God, not by merit, but by mercy. In Hebrew thought, gates represent transition points — thresholds between the common and the holy, the outside and the inner court, the temporal and the eternal. These are not man-made doors — they are divine entrances into the presence and promises of the LORD.
As we continue our study in Psalm 118, I want to take a deep dive into verses 17-18, where the psalmist makes one of the boldest declarations in all of Scripture: “I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the LORD.” This isn’t the voice of someone untouched by pain — it’s the cry of someone who has been through the fire and come out declaring God’s faithfulness. This statement is not a denial of suffering; it’s a defiance of death. It’s the resolve of a heart that’s been chastened, refined, and pressed, yet remains confident in the God who preserves life — not just for survival, but for purpose.
Over the past two devotionals, we heard the song of the redeemed and stood at the wells of salvation. We saw how strength, song, and salvation flow from Yeshua Himself — how the joy of drawing from His presence is not just a poetic promise but a lifeline for our day. Yet today, we stand at a prophetic threshold. Something has shifted. Something has broken open. We are not only being refreshed — we are being awakened and called.